The Fates of Twisted Time

A little poem written with the old Greek Fates singing to me....enjoy :D

 

The Fates of Twisted Time

 

 

The Fates of twisted time unfold

A tale who’s ending’s yet untold.

And while they spin the glossy thread,

Mortals battle the death they dread.

 

Control is not in human grasp.

It slipped away, a slickened asp.

And the Fates, they gaze on our mortal plight.

They will not interfere, they will offer no light.

 

The Youngest, if even measurable by age,

Ponders confusion, jealousy, rage.

She holds the beginning of life in her hand

The emotions that follow, she can not understand.

 

The Middle sits and weaves out life.

She intertwines colors; lust, kindness and strife.

Her fingers are heart, she feels all that she sews.

Her empathy serves to connect all the rows.

 

The Eldest sings out to inspire the Middle.

Her voice is silver and hums like a fiddle.

When the thread has been woven, not a hole left to mend,

It is passed to the Eldest, and the life she does end.

 

These three sit at peace in a place that is not.

Eyes to the earth, pulling threads taught.

They see all ‘twas before and all ‘tis to be.

Famine, redemption and hope do they see.

 

With no judgment to pass, nor the will to do so

They watch the old die and they watch the young grow

Other than old humming, they make not a sound.

They twist souls with no words and watch life go ‘round.